It's the way that when I shake,
I shake out of my skin.
It's the heavy pullout mattress,
in the tiny room
below the attic.
I'm blown away by the sky
layered velvet in your eyes
and my fear of fucking this up.
It's the way that if I could
I'd write something better.
It's the gratitude I have for the ache that's slowly getting thinner.
With the skin growing back round my fingers
and your head rested on my shoulder,
if they let us lay here forever,
These photograph smiles,
they start to look like angels.
And the fire in your eyes -
I've seen it burn out too many times.
And if I say anything
it'll be a spilling of my heart into your hands.
And if I find stability,
it'll be when I realise that this is all just in my head.
And I'll be counting down the seconds
until it's safe to breathe again.
I'm sorry for getting like this.
I'd lay back and give up everything for times like these.
I lay back and saw stars in your eyes.
I saw the pink lace reflect off the airplane glass
side by side.
I saw the stars realign.
You showed up right on time.
And these fragile smiles -
they saw the cracks in my solid stone.
And the fire in yours eyes
filled my lungs with what looked just like home.